by Kevin Kaiser
“Fix it,” she says as she waves her hand at it, all of it, this midnight icy street of it, and beyond to the whole world of it, the entire universe of it. “I’m trying,” I respond, and wait for some great meaning to reveal itself from the space between my words. “Fix me?” she asks for the second time tonight. And again I tell her she’s the only one who can do this, fearing the switch from the vagueness of the intangible “it” to the distinct and still intangible “me” that is her, all of her. If nothing else – and I am nothing else – at least I am honest, but honesty can’t prevent me from wasting this moment that dissolves like a solitary snowflake upon her hot and furrowed brow. If I mean anything at all, this is what I mean by “trying.”
Kevin Kaiser journeys through the underworld in search of energies, love, the self that is not the self, and the realization that all is one and, therefore, zero. The path is the other way.